


The Maybe To Your Story

by Kangofu_CB



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Emotions, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Face-Sitting, Gift Fic, I mean I wrote this is anyone surprised, M/M, Rimming, THEY ARE HAVING EMOTIONS, USMC, deployment talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28310943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/pseuds/Kangofu_CB
Summary: Bucky walked out of the shared bathroom whistling under his breath, happily ignoring Steve’s groan as he whipped off the towel around his waist to half-assedly swipe at the water droplets on his shoulders.“Oh, you’re still here?” he asked blithely, toweling at his hair. “Might want to shake a leg before you get an eyeful of something you want to see even less than my dick.”“I’m going, I’m going,” Steve grumbled. “Fuck. Can’t believe I’m getting sexiled for the third time this week.  ForBarton.”Or, instead of talking about their feelings, Clint and Bucky decide to fuck about it.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 69
Kudos: 279
Collections: Winterhawk Wonderland - 2020 edition!





	The Maybe To Your Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mollynoble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollynoble/gifts).



> This fic is for the wonderful Molly Noble, who asked for (among other prompts) a military AU. She didn't really specify what kind, and this is more like pornography painted with a thin veneer of military AU but I hope you like it!
> 
> A few disclaimers: I was never IN the military. I'm an Army brat and I married a Marine, so I drew from that experience, but I never served, so I may have some details muddled. I tried to keep it vague where I wasn't sure. Additionally, ALL of my experience is pre DADT repeal, so in this universe we're just going to assume everyone is _perfectly cool_ with queer people in the military and no one cares one bit about it. And also that it's _totally cool_ to fuck someone in your unit, which it's not, but this is pretend okay? Okay! 
> 
> This fic really wanted to be a much longer story - it really wanted to include Bucky getting injured on deployment and coming back an amputee, but not to Arizona, definitely to Brooklyn, only to find Clint had waited for him there instead, in a rundown apartment building in Bed-Stuy with a one-eyed dog. So I tried to rein it in and this is the result. 
> 
> I hope that despite any inaccuracies, you're still able to enjoy this little pornographic journey!

Bucky walked out of the shared bathroom whistling under his breath, happily ignoring Steve’s groan as he whipped off the towel around his waist to half-assedly swipe at the water droplets on his shoulders.

“Oh, you’re still here?” he asked blithely, toweling at his hair. “Might want to shake a leg before you get an eyeful of something you want to see even less than my dick.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Steve grumbled. “Fuck. Can’t believe I’m getting sexiled for the third time this week. For _Barton_.”

Bucky grinned. “Go spend time with Wilson, you know you love it.”

Steve threw his book down on his bunk and shoved his feet into sneakers. “You’re lucky we’ve been friends for twenty years, you fuckin’ degenerate.” He stomped out of the room, acting more disgruntled than he really was, more of a show for Bucky’s benefit than any true frustration. Steve really _did_ like spending time with Wilson, and he also knew that Bucky and Barton were working on borrowed time.

Because he and Barton never talked about the future, and now it seemed like there was never a good time to bring it up. Clint didn’t talk about what he was doing after at all, and Bucky…

Something about this next deployment felt ominous, and he was afraid to upset the tenuous relationship he had with Clint to plan for anything after. 

_It’s just six months_ , he told himself, which did nothing to dispel the sense of disquiet he felt. 

Luckily, the knock came before Bucky was able to really work himself into a funk, and he hastily pulled on his shorts before opening the door to let Clint in. 

“Fuck, Barnes,” Clint said, half in and half out of the room. “What is that, the Marine Corps version of lingerie? _Jesus_.”

“They’re just shorts,” Bucky said, like he hadn’t put them on on purpose, for exactly this reaction. The USMC was working on phasing silkies out, but Bucky still had a dozen pairs from years of PT, and he knew they weren’t wasted on him. He backed up to let Clint into the room, then reached up to grasp the doorframe of the bathroom and _lean_ , letting Clint get a good long look. “It’s hot.”

“It’s seventy fucking degrees, that’s not hot.” Clint said absently, eyes roving over every inch of Bucky’s body. “You’re hot. Fuck.”

“Seventy degrees is practically summer weather, c’mon, you know that, Barton. Aren’t you from some backwater town in Iowa?” 

Clint’s eyes were nearly bugged out of his head. He’d showered and put on his own casual clothes - a pair of sweats and Navy t-shirt so washed-out the lettering was nearly gone. When Bucky had invited him over to the small barracks room he and Steve shared, he’d said ‘don’t dress up’, and he’d meant it. 

“God damn,” Clint said, moving in closer and dragging his fingertips over Bucky’s abs. “Really getting into this PT routine pre-deployment, huh?”

Bucky shrugged as much as he could with his arms still braced above his head. His fingertips were going kinda numb, but it was worth it for the way Clint hadn’t even bothered to look at his face because he was too busy staring at his abs. 

“C’mon,” Bucky said, leaning into Clint’s bulk and tilting his head up, “did you come here to stare, or to do something about it?”

“Why not both?” Clint slid the hand at his stomach around until it was at the small of Bucky’s back, pulling until he was up on his toes and supporting nearly all his weight with his arms, and then Clint’s mouth was on his, hot and insistent. Bucky groaned into it, biting at Clint’s lips, and then he let go of the doorframe to wrap his arms around Clint’s shoulders and back him towards his own bunk. He twisted and pulled, until Clint ended up braced over him, barely enough room for the two of them on the bed, and Clint hunched in so that he didn’t bang his head on the bed above. 

“I hate these bunks,” Clint grumbled. “There’s nothing to hit my head on in my room.”

“Yeah well, I have one roommate and you have three, so of the two of us, who has the better chance of throwing everyone out for some sexy times?”

Instead of arguing, Clint ducked back down to kiss him again, and Bucky hooked a leg around his back to pull him down and grind on him. 

“Yeah, well,” Clint said, breaking away to press biting kisses down Bucky’s throat that he very sincerely hoped didn’t leave marks, “that’s gonna change soon.”

Bucky’s heart twisted up in his chest in an uncomfortable squeeze he didn’t like. “Yeah,” he said softly, “I know.”

Clint’s enlistment was coming to an end in just a few short weeks, and Bucky’s-

Bucky’s was not. He had a deployment that started about a week after Clint got out, and then another six months after that before he either got out or re-upped, and he still wasn’t sure which it was gonna be. He’d got in it for the GI Bill and the regular paycheck, but Steve was nearly done with his bachelor’s degree and itching for Officer Candidate School, and Bucky wasn’t so sure he wasn’t gonna just stick it out, because he didn’t have a plan beyond the Corps. It had seemed like a long time to figure it out, five years ago, and now it seemed like not enough time at all. 

“I tried to extend,” Clint said against the skin of his chest, jerking Bucky forcefully back into the moment with his mouth and the surprising words. 

“What?” Bucky asked, getting up on his elbows so he could look down at the top of Clint’s head. “You what?”

Clint shrugged, meeting Bucky’s gaze and then looking quickly away. He mouthed at the ridge of Bucky’s flexed abs, which was not quite enough to distract him from the conversation they were having but it was a close thing. “Tried to extend. Don’t like the idea of you goin’ over without me. They turned me down. Said they already got corpsmen all lined up for your unit, didn’t need me.”

Which was bullshit. Clint was one of the best corpsmen Bucky’d ever worked with in Search and Rescue, fast on the ropes and usually spotting whoever it was they were trying to pick up long before anyone else on the helo did. But the warmth of the gesture - Clint trying to stay in just to get shipped out with the rest of them - tugged at his heart. 

“You’re an idiot,” Bucky said, the words coming out much more fondly than he’d intended. 

Shrugging again, Clint leaned up on his arms and immediately hit his head on the underside of the bed above him. “ _Fucking-_ ow,” he complained, rubbing at his scalp and glaring. 

“You big baby,” Bucky murmured, before wrapping his thighs around Clint’s waist and wrestling him over, until Bucky was on top, perched on Clint’s hips. He was just enough shorter than Clint that he barely cleared the top bunk, and he wrapped his hands around Clint’s hips, thumbing the edges of his shirt up so he could stroke the skin there. “We’ll be okay without you babe. It’s just six months, and then we’ll be back. No biggie.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “‘No biggie’, he says.” He tugged Bucky’s left arm up and ran his mouth over the black letters inked there. “Spoken like every jarhead I’ve ever met.” He grinned against Bucky’s skin. “Fuckin’ Marines.” 

Bucky snatched his arm back, thumping Clint’s chest. “Shut up. You know I got that after boot camp.”

“You and every other guy in the corps. Fucking USMC or an EGA tattooed as soon as you got your head shaved. Moron. You don’t see any Navy bullshit on me.”

“I dunno, maybe you got something done since the last time I saw you. Better take your clothes off to be sure.”

Clint rolled his eyes, but he levered himself up with his core muscles and yanked his t-shirt over his head, baring miles of skin that was completely devoid of tattoos. The shirt got tossed off to the side, forgotten, as Bucky leaned down to mouth at the breadth of Clint’s chest. He’d done archery before he’d joined, and Bucky suspected all the impressive musculature of his chest and shoulders was related to that more than the PT they were constantly doing. Bucky ruffled his fingers through his chest hair, tugging gently. Clint groaned. 

Bucky threaded his fingers through the slats of the bunk above him and used the leverage to lift himself up, taking his weight off Clint’s lap. “Pants too, sweetheart, who knows what you’re hiding under there.”

“You know exactly what I’m hiding,” Clint leered, but he squirmed under Bucky, working the sweats - and fuck, he hadn’t been wearing underwear - down his hips before kicking them off, leaving him bare to Bucky’s gaze. 

“Mmm,” Bucky agreed, settling himself back over Clint’s lap, wiggling more than was strictly necessary to get comfortable. “Guess I do.” He leaned down to kiss Clint again, bracing his arms on either side of his head to press their mouths together. Clint’s hands came up to run along the muscles of his thighs, stroking high enough that his thumbs grazed the edges of Bucky’s cock before reaching back to grasp at his ass and pull him harder against his lap. 

“These don’t leave much to the imagination you know,” Clint mumbled against Bucky’s lips. 

Bucky rolled his hips in response, grinding his ass against Clint’s rapidly-hardening dick. “Just enough to keep you interested.”

Clint cocked his head and gave Bucky a curiously soft look. “You don’t gotta do anything special to do that Buck, I’m plenty interested.” He thrust his hips to prove the point. 

“Guess so,” Bucky managed, riding the wave of Clint’s movement and feeling the answering pull of arousal in his gut that made his own dick perk up. “But I wanna make sure, give you something to think about while I’m gone.”

“Not gonna be thinkin’ about much else,” Clint said quietly, then leaned up to get his mouth on Bucky’s chest, dragging his tongue over Bucky’s nipple. Bucky reached for the slats above him again, arching his back. Clint wrapped an arm around his waist for balance and dragged his mouth over to the other nipple, biting at it just this side of too rough. Bucky moaned and rocked his hips. Clint dragged his blunt nails down Bucky’s spine, making him arch even further, pressing his chest into Clint’s mouth. His hands trailed down farther, under the waist of the shorts - indecent now, with his cock pressing up against them and tenting the fabric. “This for me?” Clint asked, stroking with his thumbs so that they just barely grazed Bucky’s dick. 

“Don’t see anybody else here,” Bucky gasped, as Clint set his teeth into the edge of his rib cage and huffed a laugh. He got his hand into Bucky’s shorts and wrapped his large, calloused palm around Bucky’s dick though, and Bucky’s hips jerked into the touch. 

This was far from the last time Clint would be in Bucky’s bed before one or both of them left, but every single time had an undercurrent of desperation that made Bucky want to imprint himself on Clint’s skin and mind and _soul_ so that when Bucky was gone, he’d have those memories. Bucky didn’t want to say _something to remember me by_ , but fuck, he didn’t want Clint to forget about him.

They’d already gone so long without discussing the future or making plans, and Bucky didn’t know how to change that, how to ask for more, especially right before he was about to leave. He didn’t even know how to start having the conversation after avoiding it for so long, but he knew with a dull, aching inevitability that he wanted more, and he didn’t think that was feeling was going to go away, not in six months, maybe not ever. Bucky wanted Clint with the kind of desperation that felt like a forever kind of emotion, whether that meant stolen moments in his bunk or hours of _Dog Cops_. It was the kind of feeling that left Bucky fantasizing about more than the warmth of his skin - it made him think of introducing him to his Ma and his sisters, of holidays spent together and stupidly domestic things like cooking, even though neither one of them had the first clue what to do in a kitchen. 

“Fuck,” Clint groaned. He flopped back onto the bed, his hands still roving over Bucky’s body, gripping tightly enough that Bucky could feel the matching desperation in his touch. His face was slack with want and arousal and something else Bucky couldn’t quite put a name to. Conflicted, maybe. Soft and hungry. “Sit on my face,” he suggested, and the sound Bucky let out was caught halfway in his throat, eager and shocked in equal measures. 

Not that Clint had never rimmed him - or vice-versa - but there was something inherently filthy about being told to sit on his face that appealed to Bucky’s inner pervert. 

Bucky lifted himself up enough for Clint to catch his fingers in the edges of the shorts and tug them down, and then Bucky wrestled one leg out of them, clumsy and impatient and as graceless as possible. It couldn’t possibly be sexy, but Clint was watching him avidly, his eyes drinking Bucky in as he finally managed to shake the shorts off of his other leg and onto the floor. Clint’s gaze missed nothing, whether they were on the helo or here in Bucky’s bunk, and Bucky could feel it almost like a physical caress as he knee-walked his way up Clint’s chest. 

Clint squirmed, shifting until his shoulders were under Bucky’s thighs and he could reach up and grasp the globes of his ass in both hands. 

“You sure about this?” Bucky asked doubtfully. He wanted it, the very thought of it burning in his gut, but he felt big and unwieldy, crouched over Clint’s chest. Clint was taller and a little broader in the shoulders and Bucky wasn’t used to looming over him. 

“Get up here Barnes, I wanna get my mouth on you,” Clint said, grinning and cocky. He lifted his head and sucked Bucky’s dick into his mouth, scorching wet heat enveloping Bucky and making his hips stutter and jerk. Bucky groaned, tipping his head back as he scrambled to get a hold on the supports above his head. Christ, this was gonna kill him. “If I die, I die,” Clint added, letting Bucky’s cock slip from his mouth and stroking his hands up and down the muscles of Bucky’s thighs. “Worth it.”

Clint scooted down before Bucky could respond, or even think about responding, and then he lifted Bucky up, sliding until all Bucky could see was the messy top of his hair and then his mouth-

“ _Oh fuck_ ,” Bucky managed, high-pitched and garbled as Clint’s tongue rasped over his hole, the sensation going straight to his dick. 

Underneath him, Clint moaned, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s thighs and pulling him further down. Gingerly, Bucky settled his weight a little more, trying to hold most of his weight up with his arms and leg muscles. Clint shifted, scruffing his stubbled cheeks between Bucky’s ass and licking further, hot and wet and making Bucky moan. 

Christ, his neighbors were gonna be banging on the walls. 

Then Clint scraped his teeth across Bucky’s perineum and all coherent thought flew out of his head entirely. 

Clint used his hands to spread him wider, to get his tongue deeper, searching, licking Bucky open until he was mindlessly riding Clint’s face, one hand still clutching at the support slats above him and the other one clenched in Clint’s hair. “Oh god, oh _fuck_ , Clint,” Bucky babbled, fist tightening until he heard Clint’s muffled moan from between his thighs. 

“Shit,” Bucky panted, letting go, “shit, sorry.”

There was another sound, something Bucky registered as vaguely negative, and then Clint’s hand found Bucky’s and pulled it back down to his hair. Bucky tangled his fingers through the even-messier strands, tugging gently, and Clint moaned again. Bucky could feel as well as hear the sound, gentle vibration against sensitive areas, and he shivered, rolling his hips harder. Clint yanked at his hips, pulling his down even further so that he could get his mouth deeper, working his tongue _inside_ Bucky, and Bucky let go of the slatting with a punched-out groan, wrapping his fingers around the base of his dick and squeezing. 

He didn’t want to come, not yet, would much rather come riding Clint’s cock than his face, or even fucking him, but if Clint kept this up Bucky was going to come all over himself. 

Clint was making incredible noises, muffled sounds of pleasure like just eating Bucky out was all he needed to come, and his hands were encouraging every twitch of Bucky’s hips, pulling him into the motion. Bucky could feel his tongue and teeth, hot and wet and working him open, and the scrape of his jaw as it worked furiously between his thighs, and all Bucky could do was make punched-out little gasps and swear mindlessly. He was sweating, too, a fine sheen of perspiration coating his skin even in the coolness of the room, and the wet, slick sounds of Clint’s mouth were echoing between all the noises Bucky was making. 

Bucky squeezed his dick tighter, resisting the urge to furiously jerk off. “Ah, fuck, shit, Clint-” 

Clint sucked at the thin skin behind his balls and slid a finger into Bucky’s loose, wet hole. 

“Oh _god_ , I’m gonna come. You have to stop I’m gonna- _fuck!_ ” 

Bucky managed to lift himself up off of Clint’s face, panting and just barely holding back orgasm as Clint’s fingers followed him and he craned his neck. 

“You’re gonna make me come,” Bucky informed him, and oh God, Clint’s face was wet and slick all down his chin, and he was panting and flushed and his pupils were blown so wide Bucky could barely tell his eyes were blue. 

“I don’t see a problem with that,” Clint said, licking his lips. He twisted his finger inside Bucky, and Bucky couldn’t stop the noise he made. He pushed Clint’s hand away, feeling the strange emptiness he left behind, and scooted until he could rest his full weight on Clint’s lower stomach.

For a minute, Bucky thought about pushing his cock into Clint’s mouth and fucking it until he came, and the thought was enough to take what was left of his breath away. He had to shut his eyes and breathe deeply and not even _think_ about how Clint’s face looked, fucked out already. _Jesus_. Instead he thought about how _empty_ he felt, and how much better he’d feel filled up with Clint’s dick. Stretched wide and filled up until he could barely breathe around it, and decided that was what he wanted instead. 

“I wanna come on your cock,” Bucky said, when he felt like he had a little control over himself again. “Unless you’re not into that.” He could feel Clint’s cock nudging against him, hard and a little damp, and the restless motion of Clint’s hips underneath him. 

“I’m very, very into that,” Clint said, wide-eyed and breathless. “The most into it.”

“Good,” Bucky decided, leaning over to plant a sloppy kiss under Clint’s ear, and rattling around in the drawer of the little cabinet by his bed. He got his hands on the slippery bottle of lube and sat up, brandishing it triumphantly. Clint reached for it, but Bucky held it just out of reach. “Are you gonna behave? I wanna come on your _cock_ , not your fingers.”

Clint’s gaze slid from the bottle, to Bucky’s very hard, very throbbing cock, up his chest, and back to the bottle. “I mean…” he licked his lips again, then blinked up at Bucky with an innocent expression like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “Why not both?”

“You’re the fucking worst,” Bucky grumbled, reaching to uncap the lid himself. 

“I think you meant the best,” Clint said, managing to snag the bottle out of Bucky’s hands when he looked down to twist the cap. “I’m the fucking best. I’m the best at fingering you.” He slid a slippery hand around Bucky’s hip and pressed two fingers in as far as he could reach, which wasn’t very far considering the angle. Bucky groaned and leaned forward on his hands, hitching his hips up higher to give Clint a better angle. “I’m the best at sucking your dick,” Clint continued, working his fingers deeper and scissoring them apart. Bucky shuddered. “And I’m definitely the best at fucking you.” He punctuated the statement by stroking over Bucky’s prostate, making his cock jump and his arms feel weak. 

“The _worst_ ,” Bucky stuttered, rocking back into the touch. 

“That’s not what you said last night,” Clint shot back, and Bucky groaned at the awful fucking joke, then groaned again as Clint pressed a third finger into him. 

“If you make me come before I sit on your dick, I’m gonna make you jerk off by yourself instead of helping,” Bucky warned when Clint pressed into his prostate again. 

“That’s fine,” Clint said, doing it again. Bucky bit his lip and screwed his eyes shut against the sensation, too good by far. “You can lay there and look pretty, all fucked out and covered in your own come,” he said, dark and hot, breathing the words into the space between Bucky’s neck and shoulder, “and I’ll jerk myself off over how good you look, until I come all over you too.”

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Bucky ground out. 

Before he could do something as embarrassing as begging Clint to fuck him, Clint eased his fingers out, leaving Bucky desperate and slick and empty, and urged him back until his cock was nudging at Bucky’s hole. 

“You said you wanted to ride me,” Clint reminded him, unbearably smug. 

Bucky shifted, stretching upwards until he could wrap his fingers through the fucking bed slats again, and sank back onto Clint’s cock in one smooth glide. “You talk so much shit,” Bucky forced out around the overwhelming feeling of fullness. 

“Worth it,” Clint said, finally breathless and looking as affected as Bucky felt. 

Bucky raised up on trembling thighs and then sank down again, rolling his hips to get the angle just right. He let his head loll back as he focused on the sensation of Clint’s cock inside him, thick and hard and rubbing him right where he wanted it. 

Clint’s hips jerked under him and he made a needy little sound, and Bucky glanced down and gave him a little smirk.

Then he did it again.

And again. 

It was Clint’s turn to be devastated, his hands grasping at Bucky’s hips and his breath coming in harsh pants as Bucky rode him hard and fast. 

“Touch me,” Bucky demanded, lifting himself until Clint’s cock was barely inside him and then slamming back down. “Make me come. You wanted to see me come, right sweetheart?”

Clint fumbled a slick hand against Bucky’s cock and stroked him, his rhythm a little off and erratic but enough - more than enough, pleasure shooting up Bucky’s spine with every twist of his wrist. His whole body was tensed up underneath Bucky, his knees bent and his hips pushing up to meet Bucky on every downstroke, his fist tight and hot around Bucky’s cock. 

The room was nothing but the slap of skin-on-skin, and Clint’s grunts of pleasure and Bucky’s hitched breathing as he chased both their orgasms, grinding his hips down onto Clint’s cock as Clint jerked him off. 

“I’m close,” he gasped out, his thighs shaking with exertion, and Clint took over, holding Bucky’s hips poised above his as he thrust up into his ass, his hand and cock in perfect rhythm while Bucky panted and keened over him. 

“That’s it baby,” Clint said, breathless, “come all over me.”

The filth that spilled out of Clint’s mouth when they were fucking always took Bucky over the edge and this time was no exception as his body seized up in spectacular orgasm, coming all over Clint’s hand and his chest as he fucked up into him over and over again. He fucked Bucky though it until he was shaking with oversensitivity instead of exertion and then Clint pulled Bucky down against his body, wrapping both arms around him as he pushed his cock in as far as he could go and came with a cry that he muffled against Bucky’s shoulder. 

Bucky lay there, slumped into Clint’s chest, and tried to remember how to breathe. 

Jesus. 

He couldn’t feel his toes.

Though that could be from the position and not just the orgasm. 

After a few long moments, Bucky shifted, letting Clint’s now-soft cock slip out of him, and then heaved his body to the side so he could stretch out his cramped-up muscles. 

“God,” Bucky muttered. His head was pillowed on Clint’s chest, and he could feel the too-fast beating of his heart under his ear, gradually slowing down as Clint sucked in oxygen, Bucky’s entire torso rising and falling with each breath. 

“You can call me Clint.”

“I hate you.” 

Clint was silent for a moment, and Bucky wondered - it wasn’t anything he hadn’t said before, and they both knew he didn’t mean it. Didn’t they?

When Clint spoke it was with a bit of hesitancy Bucky hadn’t heard from him in ages, not since the first time he’d invited Clint back to his room for some recreational fucking. 

“I kinda hope you don’t.”

Bucky propped his chin on Clint’s chest to look at him. Clint looked unaccountably nervous, despite still being sex-flushed and sweaty, his hair a disaster from Bucky’s fingers. 

“I really don’t,” Bucky promised, which was the closest he’d ever come to admitting this was a lot more than recreational, and not even really about the fucking anymore. It was about being close to Clint. Clint who flung himself out of helicopters with no regard for personal safety, and who kept up with Bucky on the rifle range even though he wasn’t even a Marine, and who had a habit of pulling his t-shirt up to wipe his forehead in the shop, revealing tantalizing glimpses of skin that had started this whole thing. Clint who’d learned Spanish so that he could talk to the undocumented migrants they often picked up in the desert, desperately trying to get to a new life and who often nearly died of injury or dehydration. 

Bucky’d probably been stupidly in love with him before he’d ever invited him in, and wasn’t that the stupidest thing of all. 

Clint was getting out, and Bucky was going to Afghanistan, and-

“I got a house,” Clint said, still quiet and uncertain, and Bucky tried to pull in the vulnerable pieces of himself that were desperately leaking out in the post-coital aftermath. He’d known this was coming, as soon as he’d got his orders, as soon as he’d realized Clint wouldn’t be going with them. 

“Yeah?” Bucky said around the lump in his throat. “Back in bumfuck Iowa?”

“Not… exactly.”

Bucky raised up on one elbow so he could see Clint better. “Decide the city life was better? Brooklyn is nice this time of year.”

“Brooklyn is shitty this time of year,” Clint grumbled. “Cold as fuck and the snow is greasy slush. No, I-” he paused and swallowed hard. “So you know how Alvarez has been talkin’ about sending his wife and kid home while he’s deployed?”

Bucky nodded. Alvarez was due to get out just a couple of months after they got back from their tour, and he’d talked about not a fucking thing else except sending Mrs. Alvarez and Baby Alvarez home to Mommy Alvarez where his wife would have some help and she could start looking for a place for them back home for when he got out. 

“So I kinda… well I’m rentin’ the place for now, but… I figured, you know, if you were gonna be here a while, after, I could buy it offa him when he gets back. There’s- the college has a program, it’s real popular with the guys, they train you to be a nurse, build on the medic training the Navy gave us.”

Bucky blinked at him in sheer disbelief, until Clint was squirming a little under him and refusing to meet his eyes. “You want… to stay?” Bucky checked. “Here? In Yuma fuckin’ Arizona?”

“Well there’s nothin’ in Waverly to go home to. And… well, you’ll be here? Right? When you come back?”

There was no guarantee of that. Yeah, Bucky’d come back to Yuma when the deployment was over but after that… well, it depended on a lot of things. Whether he re-upped, and if he did whether they kept him here or sent him to Camp Pendleton or somewhere else. But…

“You want to stay here _with me_?” Bucky knew he wasn’t masking the weird combination of disbelief and longing that he felt, but he didn’t care. Clint wanted to stay with him, and that meant… 

That meant a lot. 

“I wanna be where you are,” Clint shrugged, still not looking at him. 

Bucky leaned down to kiss him, full of pent up emotions and desperation, but still somehow gentler than any kiss they had ever shared. 

“Yes,” Bucky said. “Yeah, I’m gonna be here. I’m- fuck, Clint, I don’t-” He took a ragged breath. “Please be here when I get back.”

Clint tugged him closer, pulling Bucky in until his face was tucked into Clint’s throat, and he could hear the steady beat of his heart again. “I’ll be here,” Clint promised. “I’m gonna make a fuckin’ sign. It’ll say ‘Welcome Home Soldier’. We’ll be on the news.”

Bucky pinched him, hard, and Clint jerked away and then started laughing. “I’m not a fuckin _soldier_ ,” Bucky growled. “I’m a fuckin’ _Marine_.” 

“Welcome home sweet-cheeks?” Clint teased, and Bucky could hear the grin on his face. 

“I hate you.”

Clint hummed and pressed his mouth to Bucky’s temple. “You don’t hate me at all,” he whispered. “You’re going to ship out, and I’m going to stay here and send you care packages and dirty pictures, just really filthy shit so you don’t forget about me.”

“I could never,” Bucky said weakly, his mind already running wild with possibility.

“And when you come back,” Clint said, his fingers stroking gently over Bucky’s back, “you’re coming back to a home this time. You’re coming back to me this time.”

“Every time,” Bucky said quietly. “Sweetheart, I’ll come back to you every single time.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks to everyone for the endless encouragement (Lissa, Stella, Amy, Steph!) you guys always believe in me even when I don't believe in myself. 
> 
> Two extremely special thanks: To Amy, who gave this a wonderful and extremely helpful beta read, pointing out where things could be more clear for the civilians and also where I had fucked up the POV - thank you darling. And to Steph who, upon learning that I was having an absolute shitshow of a night at work, volunteered to fix my beta edits and did a smash-bang job of it! If it wasn't for her I definitely would have posted this in all it's un-edited glory, and Molly deserved better. So thank you so much babe for all your love, support, and kindness.


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